


Birds of a Feather

by countingpaperstars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, High School, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, brotherhood era, can be read as platonic if you're so inclined, finally doing my fave trope yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 13:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15026144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingpaperstars/pseuds/countingpaperstars
Summary: “I thought you said you didn’t have a soulmark?”Nose scrunching in confusion, Prompto twists out of Noct’s hold to peer up at him. “I don’t.”Sometimes the things we long for most are merely hidden out of sight.





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> *yeets this ficlet at my writer's block* take THAT
> 
> this is a little sumthin sumthin for promptis week! Day Six: soulmate au (matching marks) hope you guys enjoy!

“Ugh so sleepy,” whines Prompto. He stretches his arms in hopes of alleviating the warmth sunk into his bones, but it’s no use as another yawn tugs at his jaw. Summer's heat is just around the corner, the leaves overhead full and green where they whisper in the breeze.

“What?” 

Noctis' eyes are focused far away, food half eaten in hand, and Prompto follows his gaze across the schoolyard to where Eira is showing off her new mark again to a gaggle of their classmates. It makes Prompto’s stomach sink and he pushes away the last of his meal.

He isn’t sure what the deal with Noct’s soulmark is - or if he even has his yet. There’s been no reason to ask and he hasn’t told Prompto out of his own volition, and besides, it’s not like he particularly wants to bring up his own situation again. It had been awkward enough the first time Noctis had asked. Fiddling with his wristband, Prompto watches a leaf twist through the air currents down to the ground.

“Here," says Noctis, shrugging out of his school blazer to pile it on his lap. “You said you’re tired, right?”

It takes all of Prompto’s strength not to burst into flames, staring in shock as Noctis avoids his eyes. They haven’t had much physical contact yet, aside from passing fist bumps and back claps, and when Noctis fidgets awkwardly like he may take it back Prompto scrambles to cover up his surprise, tipping over to lie his head on Noctis’ lap with an exaggerated sigh.

“Thanks buddy.”

Noctis makes a noncommittal noise and returns to his meal. The jacket under Prompto’s head is warm, smelling faintly of Noct’s cologne, and he finds himself relaxing as he breathes it in. It’s familiar, the same scent that’s embedded into the soft couch in his elite high-rise apartment. All the chatter and movement of their classmates fades to white noise in the background as Prompto dozes, the dappled shadow of the tree slowly inching across the ground.

He barely registers the first pull of fingers through his hair, gently tugging as they go. It’s soothing, and when he makes a pleased noise in his throat they grow bolder, another hand joining in to comb through the strands. It’s been so long since someone’s done this and Prompto feels the bittersweet sting in his chest at the show of affection. He feels soft and hazy, like the yellow sunshine that shimmers off the pavement of the sidewalk, and he sinks into it as far as he can, melting against the firm muscle of Noctis’ legs. 

He’s nearly asleep when Noctis’ jolts, fingers freezing in place.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” says Noctis, though it's not an answer, and he leans back against the tree as he resumes his ministrations, tense and jerky in a way he hadn’t been before.

Prompto tries not to push - doesn’t want this to end - and he’s quickly learned that if something bothers Noctis enough it’ll eventually come spilling out. All he has to do is wait it out, but his curiosity ebbs at his patience. Thankfully, Noctis doesn’t leave him hanging long.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a soulmark?”

Nose scrunching in confusion, Prompto twists out of Noct’s hold to peer up at him. “I don’t.”

His heart thuds loudly in his chest as Noctis stares at him, expression blank. Gently, Prompto is coaxed to turn his head back to face away and his breath stutters when Noctis brushes his hair back and away from the side of his face. There’s a rustling in one of their bags, then a pause that’s punctured by the artificial camera shutter before Noctis passes his phone over for Prompto to take.

It nearly blends in with his hair, but it’s there - a mark tucked behind the curve of Prompto’s ear. The long end of the feather plume is sharply defined by a dusting of orange bleeding down into the yellow. He feels Noctis trace the skin behind his ear, following the curve of his _soulmark._

His breath catches ragged in his throat, eyes stinging as he reaches a hand up to touch. The skin feels no different than normal, but he likes to believe he can feel the raised lines - a tingle of a connection.

As the years had gone by with no sign of ink anywhere on his body, other than the horrendous mark from his homeland, Prompto had assumed it was just another way he was different - merely another item to add to his growing list of abnormalities for Lucis’ judgement - but there it is before his eyes, plain as day. No one had ever been close enough to see what he couldn’t, not until now - until Noctis.

When he rolls back over Noctis is smiling faintly, but he ducks his head. “I didn’t think it was relevant after you told me you didn’t have one,” he says sheepishly and tilts his head to pull his hair back from his ear.

Prompto sits up in a flash, leaning close to stare at the imprinted feather hidden beneath Noct’s dark tresses. He reaches out a finger to touch, tracing the stark lines of the mark and grinning when Noctis shivers. He’s vaguely aware of the bell ringing and their classmates retreating inside, but his world has narrowed down to the smudged color as he strokes it once more before pulling away.

“So,” he says, eyes drawn back to the spot even as the hair fall back over it. “What does this mean? For us.”

“Whatever you want it to, I guess.” Reaching out, Noctis gives him plenty of time to pull away, smiling when Prompto folds his hand in his. “I’m just happy to have you.”

It’s a quiet confession, fully transparent in a way Noctis struggles to achieve, and Prompto replays the words over and over in his mind until they etch so deeply it's like they've always been there.

The yard is empty when he glances around and he dares to lean forward and press a kiss to Noctis’ cheek, lingering against the warm blush beneath his lips. When he leans back Noctis is smiling, brilliant and rare, and Prompto answers it with one of his own. It doesn't feel brand new or different between them - somewhere inside he’d already known that Noctis is special, that he’s someone Prompto wants to remain by for as long as possible. He doesn’t need a mark to tell him that, but the utter relief of _knowing_ rushes through him like a fresh spring.

Instead it feels like a tie - a secret just for them - and later, when Prompto reaches up to brush against the skin behind his ear, he meets Noctis’ eyes across their desks and knows he feels the same.

**Author's Note:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) let me know your thoughts?
> 
> [tumblr](http://thenameisfame.tumblr.com) | [writing blog](http://countingpaperstars.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/thenameisfame)


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